You stained me,
with stories about saving me,
borrowing every line for your bestseller,
from the letters of my life,
and I tried to be grateful,
that I was of such interest,
to a cloud of Charlie Brooker books,
that had suddenly seen me,
for the very first time,
but I had to decline,
dropping a single kiss,
on your coarse curls,
before leaving you,
and your messy kitchen.
RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
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